


Spirit of the Forest

by Yggdrastiles (hauntedsilences)



Series: Sterek Week 2015 [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, BAMF Stiles, But also, Derek Deserves Nice Things, Derek Needs a Hug, Fluff, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 09:22:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5962183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hauntedsilences/pseuds/Yggdrastiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set right after Boyd's death. Derek needs comforting and hugs and someone who understands. Derek needs all the nice things, can't we agree? Stiles thinks so too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spirit of the Forest

Stiles has always been the spirit of the forest, not that he knew that at first. No, it took some time for him to figure out. Of course, he’d always felt called there, by some invisible presence. It was like a cord wrapped around his heart that tugged him ever closer. When he was a child, he remembered long walks through the preserve with his mother. They never walked the same way twice, always exploring, always discovering. It never occurred to Stiles until much later that it was out of the ordinary, to be able to walk for miles in a dense forest, yet still make it back out the same way they’d come. Every. Single. Time. 

But it wasn’t until his mother passed that he began to understand. He had run into the woods in a panic, trying to escape it all. Trying to lose himself, or maybe find a reason to live. He didn’t expect to fall and trip over a tiny, injured baby deer. It looked like it had been abandoned by its herd, too weak to keep up with its badly mangled and broken leg. Stiles had been young, yes, but he held that baby deer in his arms and cried, cried over all the injustices in the world. He only stopped when the deer writhed and wiggled out of his arms. standing on all four legs and bounding off into the forest. Did I do that? Stiles had thought. 

Stiles wasn’t content to live in a world of mysteries. No. He needed answers, he needed to understand. So he would walk in the forest and search out other small, injured woodland creatures to try and heal. Sometimes he’d be able to, but other times he was far too late, so he comforted the animal as it lay dying in his arms. 

It wasn’t long before he was branching out to plants. A wilting flower? He made it bloom again. Brown grass? Now green, and lush. A dying tree? Now full of leaves, and healthier than it had been in years. 

Stiles never told anyone. 

Stiles was no stranger to the cruelties of children, and he was not an idiot. He didn’t want them to know about the things he could do. At best, they would laugh at him, call him a liar or a freak. At worst, they would ship him off to some government laboratory and cut him open and stick him in a cage with aliens and-- he also had a very vivid imagination. 

Over the years, Stiles refined his skills, he tested his powers to the furthest reaches he could imagine. How much could he make a tree grow in a day? (An absolutely insane amount, actually) Could he help fallen trees decompose to provide nutrients for seedlings? (Yes, actually) Could he control and move plants just with his mind?! (Eh, it might have just been the wind)

When he found out about werewolves, it was pretty great, actually. Because of course he wasn’t going to tell them that he was a forest spirit, but he figured that it would totally give him an opportunity to help them all in simple, subtle ways.

Stiles grew an entire field of wolfsbane one night just to see if he could. Grown and matured, in a matter of minutes. He harvested and carefully stored it, sure that it would come in handy at some point.

Flowers and little plants were easiest, he could grow them and shape them in minutes, seconds. Shrubs and bushes took a little more time, but that was mostly because Stiles hated lopsided, uneven bushes. They looked weird. He could even weave trees, which was probably the most fun, but those took hours to grow because he had to coax them into the right shape, and then continue adjusting them as the trees grew. 

Unlike werewolves, Stiles didn’t have super healing, or super speed, or anything like that. What he did have, however, was an awareness. It was harder to do if he was in town, but in the preserve, it was like he could tap into the network created by the roots of the plants and trees, and he could see everything. Every living organism he could see, he could find. 

The first time he did this it was completely overwhelming and he almost threw up. As it was, he ended up with a migraine that lasted a day and a half. However, he kept practicing, and while it’s still taxing, he’s gotten better at not seeing the entire forest at once. He can pinpoint more or less where he wants to look, and he would explain the process to you, if he himself knew how it worked. Magic, what can you do?

Anyway, the point is that Stiles felt safe in the forest. It was his forest. He could shape it to his will, and could see everything that lived or passed through. Except for, you know, that massive weird, creepy, cut-down tree that didn’t even register at first because it just felt dead, you know? Not like a massive well of evil. But that’s a whole other story. 

No, right now that tree was furthest from Stiles’ mind...because Derek. He really thought that the plan would work and zap all the evil alphas and bam, that would be the end of it. He’d never envisioned them this way, having lost a pack member, everyones nerves frayed, and feeling like they were only being toyed with. Stiles hated the feeling, but right now Derek needed someone (Stiles) more than Stiles needed revenge. 

Stiles didn’t know what to say, or even what to do, really. Everything seemed too inadequate for the moment. The simple act of placing a reassuring hand on Derek’s shoulder seemed to paltry, so insignificant, and it made Stiles wish that he were generally better equipped to handle these sorts of situations. Christ, he could only imagine how Derek must feel. How many times had the poor man had his bodily autonomy taken from him? It damn near broke Stiles’ heart just to think about it.

Somehow it was the culmination of these thoughts that had Stiles sinking to his knees behind Derek. The water on the ground soaked into his pants, but he made a concentrated effort not to care, even though now the water was also bloody and okay, yeah, that was hella gross. But Derek. Derek needed to know that he wasn’t a monster, even though that was undoubtedly how he was feeling right now. He needed to know that he was trusted, that Stiles wasn’t afraid of him, that no one was going to turn on him for what he was made to do. 

Stiles sighed mentally and wrapped his arms around Derek’s shoulders. He held him tightly, resting his chin on one shoulder and tilting his head to knock against Derek’s. He knew it wasn’t enough, probably could never be enough, but hey, it was better than nothing, right? ANd suddenly, Stiles was filled with righteous anger because hey, why wasn’t Miss Blake over here comforting Derek, hmm? (Not that he actually wanted her here, but still.) Weren’t they dating or something? But no, a quick glance revealed that she was still hovering near Isaac, eyes wide in what looked like fear. Coward, Stiles mentally accused, holding Derek that much tighter. 

Derek needed to get out of here, Stiles thought, then mentally chastised himself for nearly doing what everyone else had been doing to him, taking away his choices. But no, this was completely different, wasn’t it? He only wanted Derek out for a little while, just enough for him to get some much-needed perspective and breathe. Beacon Hills had become stifling, even to Stiles, so he could only imagine how Derek felt about it. 

But somehow, Stiles needed to get Derek up off the floor, out of the water...Derek, who hadn’t actually made any indication of having noticed Stiles draped over his back. However, he made a low sound, almost like a whimper, when Stiles pulled away, and that alone convinced him that he was doing the right thing. The last thing that Derek needed was to stay in this loft. Too many bad things had happened here, and it was time that he let go. Although finding Derek a new place to live could wait for a while, but Stiles refused to allow him to change clothes here, shower here, sleep here...where Boyd died, and was still lying on his living room floor. 

“Hey...Derek...c’mon, let’s get you up, alright?” Stiles prompted. Derek was clearly in shock because he followed with little prompting. It was almost disconcerting the way that he followed Stiles like a zombie, rising from the water, and allowing himself to be led with small, careful touches. Stiles paused long enough to glare at Miss Blake on Derek’s behalf before shepherding him out the door and into his jeep. 

Stiles wasn’t really sure where to go. His dad had a night shift for a couple days, so it would make sense to go there for the night. But...maybe there was a better solution. They were too far away from the preserve for him to be able to heal Boyd, and that hurt in the worst way. The alphas weren’t even staying in the forest either, for whatever reason (he was completely sure they had no idea about him. No one did), so the forest was safe. 

Stiles drove towards the preserve, Derek’s head leaning on the glass like it was too heavy for his neck to hold up. Stiles was careful not to hit too many potholes, since the way Derek’s head knocked against the glass made him want to cringe...and also wrap him up in warm, fluffy blankets so that he’d never be hurt again.

Stiles still had the camping gear in his jeep from the last time he’d gone out with his dad...it seemed like a lifetime ago. But he was a lazy teenage boy at heart and why bother unloading things when he’d just have to re-load them later? That side of him did a mental fist pump at having been right. 

It was late October, and the full moon was at its highest. Derek should be running circles around him by now, but no, he was still sitting in the jeep, looking like someone killed his puppy--which now that Stiles thought about it, was a really insensitive comparison. 

“C’mon Derek, we’re here. Let’s go.” He urged. Derek didn’t seem to be too thrilled with the idea, but then, he didn’t seem too thrilled with life at the moment, so...

He followed anyway, getting out of the car and shuffling along behind Stiles. Stiles carried most of the stuff, which normally would have irritated him (because werewolf muscles? always outsource labor to the more muscular), but right now he wasn’t allowing Derek to carry anything except for the massive pile of blankets he’d stowed away. 

Stiles had a plan.

He led them through the woods, picking out the easiest path to a particular spot he’d found many years ago. It was a calm clearing, near a stream, but not too close that the ground was always soggy. He dumped the bag he was carrying on the ground near a fallen log (one that he’d purposefully kept from decomposing) and took the pile of blankets from Derek’s arms. He seemed to be waking up a bit from the shock he’d been in. 

Stiles started extending the blankets and creating quite a cozy blanket nest. They didn’t have proper pillows, so some blankets were rolled up for that use. Stiles then rummaged around in the backpack, pulling out fire-starting items as well as tin cups and instant hot chocolate mix. Stiles noticed Derek start to fidget, glancing around uneasily. 

“Hey, what’s the matter, big guy?” Stiles asked, standing up and walking over to where Derek stood. Derek shook his head. “It’s not safe here.” He insisted, eyes darting around the trees that surrounded the clearing. Stiles shook his head. “No it’s safe, Derek. I promise. I’m making sure.” He insisted, being as vague as possible. Of course, he could just tell Derek his secret...but truthfully he wasn’t sure how he’d feel about someone else knowing. Ever since he remembered, this had been something solely his. How did he feel about sharing it with Derek? 

Derek, for his part, didn’t look convinced. If anything, he looked even more worried and uneasy than before, which was totally not part of the plan. Stiles frowned, sharing his one secret with Derek would be the easiest way to get him to believe him. Unless he felt hurt and betrayed that Stiles had kept it from him in the first place? Ah well, there would be plenty of time for apologies. 

“Hey Derek.” He began, “I need you to trust me for a bit, okay? I know that you’re not really in much of a trusting disposition, given the events of the past few hours. But. Hear me out, okay?” Derek flashed crimson eyes, but nodded anyway. “Okay. Awesome. Now look, I know this is probably gonna sound pretty far-fetched, heh, fetched, sorry, but I’m uh, the guardian spirit of this forest? Now I can totally prove this, so I’m not just making shit up, alright? But with that title also comes some pretty cool superpowers, including talking to trees, which is how I know we’re safe.”

Derek’s eyebrows displayed exactly how skeptical he was of Stiles’ entire speech. However, his skepticism seemed to break through the dark stoicism he’d adopted at the loft and had held on to until this moment. “You can prove this?” He asked. “Not that I’m actually convinced you’re not just making it all up.” He clarified, the clarification of someone who’d been taken for a fool one too many times. 

“Yeah.” Stiles agreed. “Hold on a sec, watch this.” He said, leaning down to a brown patch of grass by their feet. Grass was such a simple plant. So easy to manipulate. He revived the grass, making it as full and green and lush as it would have been earlier in the year. Then he made it grow a couple feet and left it that way, looking up at Derek with arched brows. 

Derek frowned in disbelief. “You’re serious.” He said quietly, as if not quite believing himself. “Yeah, I’m also magic. Did you catch that part?” He teased, a wide pleased grin on his face. Derek nodded absently. “And you said you can talk to trees?” He asked, sounding perhaps a little worried. 

Stiles nodded, “I don’t know how else to describe it. But I can basically tap into the trees root systems and somehow that lets me be aware of every single organism currently in the forest, which is massive, by the way, so I try to look in sections, and not all of it at once.” He explained. “Which is how I know that there are no other humans or werewolves or other magical beings in this forest right now.” He paused for a moment, holding up a finger and walking towards a tree, pressing his palm against the bark. “Sorry. Correction. There are four campers about thirty miles north of here.” He amended. Derek looked like he hadn’t decided whether he was impressed or disturbed. 

“So, you know, if you want to go run while I set up camp, that’s totally alright.” He offered. 

“I don’t need to run.” Derek lied. 

“Liar.” Stiles countered. “Not that I wanted to bring this up, like, at all. But you’ve just absorbed a pretty significant amount of power. You need to anchor it, run it off, whatever you wolves do. But you need to do it before it causes you to start losing control.” He said nodding towards the full moon rising clear above their heads. 

“It’s the Hunter’s Moon.” Derek said. 

Stiles nodded. “So go hunt. I’ll be here when you get back.” And Derek took off into the night. 

\------

It was probably two in the morning when Derek got back, his mouth and clothes bloodied (more than they already were) with animal blood. He had a very satisfied air to him. Stiles had decided to show off a bit (see: a lot) and transform their campground into something out of a fairytale. 

Thick roots had sprung forth from the ground, twining and weaving together to form a bench in front of the fire. Thick carpets of moss covered the clearing, and wildflowers had blossomed, perfuming the air with a scent that was light and sweet, not too overpowering. And he’d even woven the bushes and shrubbery that surrounded the clearing together to give some semblance of privacy, so it felt less like they were in the middle of a massive forest, and more like they were in a private clearing. 

Derek had raised his eyebrows at the transformation, unable to hide how impressed he was. “Won’t this be kind of a dead giveaway that the forest has a spirit?” He asked, gesturing at the unnatural way the plants cooperated with each other. Stiles shook his head. “Nah, I’ll put it all back when we’re done. No one will ever know we were here.” Derek nodded, coming to sit beside Stiles on the bench. It was far more comfortable than it looked. 

“Wet wipes?” Stiles asked, extending a box of them and gesturing at Derek’s...well, everything. Derek smiled faintly and took the box, wiping the blood and sighing as he began to feel cleaner. He went through a couple dozen wipes before handing the box back. “Hot chocolate?” Stiles offered next, holding out a cup topped with tiny colored marshmallows.

Tiny colored marshmallows. 

Somehow, that was the tiny detail that broke Derek. He looked at the cup with wide eyes, blinking rapidly when tears began to fall unexpectedly. He sniffed and looked away, not feeling up to the usual teasing he was sure would come from Stiles. Instead, though, there was a warm arm that settled around his shoulders. “Hey...it’s going to be alright, okay? Let it out...” Stiles encouraged. 

Derek was struck by the uncharacteristic kindness, and he found himself turning into Stiles’ embrace. At some point they slid down the bench and sat on the moss in front of the fire, but Derek had his face turned into Stiles’ collar, so he wasn’t completely aware. 

His mother had always made hot chocolate that way, and everything, all the pain and heartache of the last few years came crashing down. He wept for what felt like hours, clutching onto Stiles for dear life and sobbing into his shirt. He was vaguely aware of Stiles murmuring softly and rubbing soothing circles on his back. 

When he had run, he had felt powerful, invincible. Stiles had been right, there was extra power within him that needed to settle, and it did. He let the wolf take over and do what it did best. He ran and hunted and felt like he could take on the world. How now did he feel so weak? The power hadn’t left him, he could feel it there, still simmering, but he felt raw, torn open, exposed. He nuzzled further into Stiles’ neck. 

\-------

“I’m sorry.” He said some time later into the fabric of Stiles’ shirt. 

“Don’t apologize.” Stiles chided gently. “Never apologize for crying. Sometimes we just need to break down for a while.” He said, sounding like he spoke from experience. Derek nodded softly. 

“That’s how she made hot chocolate.” 

“Yeah, that’s how my mom did it too.” Stiles agreed. Both their cups lay abandoned on the bench. “I can heat them back up if you want?” 

“No...I’m...I’m tired.” Derek confessed, looking down as if he was ashamed. Stiles nodded. “Blanket nest?” He offered, to which Derek nodded once, a little timidly. 

They arranged themselves in the blankets, on their backs, looking at the stars. “Why did you do this?” Derek asked quietly.

Stiles seemed startled by the question. “I’m not sure.” He admitted. “I wanted to help...take your mind off of things.” he said. “And then I kinda wanted to show off.” he admitted with a grin. “But mostly I think we need a break sometimes. Life is pretty shit right now.” 

Derek blushed faintly, “Yeah. It really is.” 

Stiles sought out Derek’s fingers with his own and entwined their hands together. Derek turned his head towards Stiles abruptly but didn’t let go. “Stiles?” He asked in a voice close to panicking. 

“Shh, sourwolf, just let it happen...” Stiles said, scooting closer so he could kiss Derek’s cheek lightly. “Is this okay?” He asked, needing to make sure. 

Derek paused for a long moment, considering. “I don’t know what this is...or even what we’re doing, really. But...I really want to find out. So yes, it’s okay.” He said with a small, private smile. Stiles looked back at him and grinned. It would be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [Tumblr](yggdrastiles.tumblr.com)


End file.
